Genesis and Revelations
by Evan Waldo
Summary: Angel's evolution before and after Angelus.


Story Notes: No real spoilers here, except for Angel's backstory.  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Joss and FOX do. Well, they  
don't own all of it, unless Rupert Murdoch has acquired Ireland

Galway, Ireland

Ah, the Sabbath. My father loves this day. It gives him a chance to wash away all his sins, of which he has many let me tell you, and put on a new face for the townspeople. He saunters about all high and mighty like. I can see him looking down his nose at me from up there. As we walk, he constantly corrects me on my posture and my step and my appearance and everything else about me. "Stand up straight Liam. You're not a hunch back, are you? And try not to walk like you're drunk."

"I am drunk." I say.

Mother, along with young Kathy, both follow behind us as we make our ways up the walk. As we come upon the church, I can see him change before my very eyes. Away goes the cruel, uncaring tyrant and out comes the beloved man of God. He greets everyone with a smile as we pass up the steps and through the doors. Finding our usual spots at the front we take our places and begin the morning's prayer .

Our father which art in heauen, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdome come. Thy will be done, in earth, as it is in heauen. Giue vs this day our daily bread.

And forgiue vs our debts, as we forgiue our debters. And lead vs not into temptation, but deliuer vs from euill: For thine is the kingdome, and the power, and the glory, for euer, Amen.

I hate him so much . . .

Borsa, Romania

1898

God, I can't bear this. This thing is literally, literally eating away at me and I can't stop it. I've tried to cut it out, burn it out, wish it away, and pretend it wasn't there, but nothing will rid me of this infection. I think "filthy" was how Darla had described it. Filthy and disgusting and disgusted with myself. The smell doesn't help. Right now though mostly I feel hungry. I come upon a noble and his wife. I try all I can, but it's useless. I'm useless, like a cat without its claws or a dog without its bite and nothing but a stupid unconvincing bark to make up for it. "I'm a monster!" I insist. No, I'm worst than that. I'm a fraud with fangs.

In my daze I come upon a church. Not aware of where I am or where I'm going, I go inside. The clank of the huge wooden door behind me sounds like the closing of a jail cell. Stumbling down the aisle I come to a halt at the foot of the altar and fall to my knees, weeping, not because of where I am, but because of whom I am. I don't know where the hell I am . . .

When I come to my senses and stop blubbering I look up and see the crucifix hanging on the wall. I'll never forget his face, stained with blood. After all he'd done to me that bastard got off easy. Staring at the giant cross I'm filled with hate and anger and contempt rather than the fear one would expect a creature of my kind would feel in a situation such as this. I don't fear him. I hate him. I hate him so much

Missoula, Montana

1931

Why am I here? I'm still trying to come to terms with everything that's happened since . . .

I'm still trying to cope, to carry the weight I've been loaded with. I don't want it. Boy, do I not want it. I wish I could be evil again. I wish this thing would go away and I could go back to not caring about anything or anyone. But it won't, and I can't. I try to remain inconspicuous as I enter the small chapel. There are a few parishioners praying inside than usual, since it's Easter time. I try to ignore them, but their eyes all open and fall on me. Let's all stare at the sad, disheveled-looking man. They're lucky I ate one of their horses earlier. Otherwise, I'd . . .

"Turn around and get back to your bitching" I think to myself. They've certainly got plenty to be praying about these days, since the market crash. People have been forced to move out here from the city. All of these New York folk lost out here, completely confused and clueless and looking for a kind local who knows the land and can take them to the next town. Bah, one of them even asked me for directions to the train station. It would be heaven here if I could...

Nothing happens. Of course nothing happens. "Are you there? It's me. Remember me? You might not; you tend to forget, or maybe you just ignore . . . I'm the guy you've been torturing for years for something he didn't really do.

Did I? I mean, did I really? After all, without my soul it wasn't actually me, right?

It was Angelus who did all those terrible things, not me. Why do you punish Angel for what Angelus did?

"Am I talking to myself?"

Now I'm talking out loud.

They're staring even wider now. One of them gasps and crosses himself and runs out terrified. He must recognize me. "Get ahold of yourself," I chuckle to myself. It's not like I can-. Oh, but if I could...

Anyway, where were we? Oh yea, him. "So," I continue, this time in my head "how have things been with you? Good I imagine. Do you ever have bad days? So what've you been up to? Me, I've just been stewing about wallowing in filth and constant agony. I've betrayed everything I am to suit you and your stupid plan. You think I like being good? I'D EAT THIS ENTIRE CONGREGATION IF I COULD!" Talking out loud again...

Sunnydale, California

1996

I never was much for church. Convents maybe, but church just isn't my thing. I like a good brooding on Sunday instead. Nonetheless, here I am. You would think that a town on a Hellmouth would have a few more of these places. Staying near the entrance and leaning to the side against a pew I take aa sigh. There's no one here, so I make my way to the front and stand. Looking up, I can see his face once more, staring down at me with contempt. I know he doesn't want me here. He doesn't want me at all. Neither of them does, and they never will.

Forever and ever. Amen.

Oh well, now to find that blonde girl


End file.
